


Son of the Devil Man

by WerepuppyBlack



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Dysfunctional Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-18 10:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7311730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WerepuppyBlack/pseuds/WerepuppyBlack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course a boy who looked like a Greek God come to life was Lucifer's son. Or: Adam Young comes to L.A. to spend time with his Father and meets the people who are now part of Father's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lucifer hated children, or at least very strongly disliked them with an added side of had no idea of what to do in their company. That was something that Chloe Decker was very sure of, considering all his interactions with her own daughter. Turning up at Lux to see a teenage boy sitting in front of the bar, calming eating an apple while Mazikeen actually listened to him put her on off-footing. Learning that this teenage boy – Adam, he told her – was Lucifer's own son completely took the floor out from under her. ( _Of course_ a boy who looked like a Greek God come to life was Lucifer's son, _of course_. Tight blond curls, sculpted elegant cheekbones, deep thoughtful eyes... she pitied the kids Adam went to school with.)

“You hate kids,” she said, though it was more of a question than a statement. Lucifer turned to her, that annoyingly endearing grin on his face.

“I do,” he confirmed. “Adam is my son, though, he's not one of those mewling little brats that mortals seem to pop out every second.” There was a pause, and he looked at her. “Honestly, why do you all feel the need to procreate so often? Not that the _activities_ towards aren't enjoyable, darling, but babies... such a mess.”

“So Adam...?”

“Lives with his Godfathers, in England.” Lucifer gave a shrug. “I personally object to the term but Adam hates the use of guardians, and Uncles is a little too... personal for what they are. I visit, sometimes. Got him that dog of his for his 11th birthday.” Chloe looked down, seeing the dog for the first time. It turned, looking directly at her and she couldn't hep but feel like it was sizing her up, trying to determine whether she was a threat or not. It seemed to come to a conclusion, and turned back to the squeaky toy it was chewing on.

“Cute dog,” she said dryly. “You never thought to mention having a son any time before now?” Her voice was a little harsher than it probably should have been, but she was angry. They had been working together for a while now, and he never once even hinted at having a son.

“Well, it never came up, Detective,” and there was that tone. That tone that he used that made him seem perfectly innocent in whatever was happening at that current moment. “I assure you, had it been relevant, I would have told you right away.” That was a bit better. “The father-type would appeal to you more, I'm sure.” That wasn't

“ _Lucifer._ ”

Lucifer and Chloe continued to argue on for a while. Adam glanced over at them, having finished his apple and now rather bored. He glanced down at Dog, who looked very unamused at it all – probably wanted to go out for a walk - and then back up at the squabbling pair.

“They always like that?” Mazikeen looked over and shrugged.

“She's his new pet,” she explained. There was a hard to read look on her face. “She helps to get out his need to punish, but it's not like it was. _He's_ not who he was.” Adam looked at the demon, who seemed oddly pensive. She turned, saw his look, and rolled her eyes. “I'm just saying. It's not like a give a damn who he spends his time with, as long as he doesn't drag me into it. You want a drink?”

Adam didn't believe her. “Coke would be cool.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dr Linda Martin wondered, just sometimes, if it would be counted to her credit that she managed to accept the fact that one of her clients was the _actual_ Devil. Would it be seen as a good thing that she decided to just treat him like she would any other patient, and help him with his issues? The part of her that was more religious – a part that was growing by the day – did worry that she had accidentally damned her soul for the actions, but she had taken an oath saying she would help any and all. It was just that by helping Lucifer and his family, she found herself doing quite a few things she never thought she would.

For example, sitting opposite the Anti-Christ, giving him something from her 'secret' candy stash. That's definitely something that she would have never thought about doing.

“I'm sorry, I can't offer you Coke,” she said, looking over at the boy. He was very much what she would have described if someone had ever asked her what an angel looked like. Though, admittedly, she wouldn't have added the t-shirt and ratty jeans. “I don't usually take clients who are minors,” she explained, “but since I am fully aware that your Father is... Well, it makes things a bit easier. Do you know why he wanted you to speak with me?” It never hurt to ask, to make sure the patient was on the same level of understanding as you personally were. She may have to alter her language a little for understanding, now she thought on it. Adam shrugged.

“Think he just wants an hour without having me around,” he said. Linda couldn't lie: she might have had that exact thought herself. “An' 'cause I don't think he knows how to talk to me,” Adam added with a shrug. “He doesn't talk to kids much, an' I might be his son but I'm still a kid.”

“That's... probably an accurate assement,” Linda said, smiling a little. “You're smart for your age.” She paused, and frowned. “Actually, your Father never mentioned...”

“I'm 12,” Adam said. “He forgets. Earth's time is … it doesn't work like that. Down there, or up there, so he forgets.” There was another shrug, proving in Linda's mind that he was a typical child. Though the revelation of his age did give her a moment of pause, she would have been convinced the boy was in his mind-teens at the least. Those cheekbones... She shook her head, forcing herself to look at the facts: yes, he was very handsome for his age, but considering who his father was and what that meant Adam _was_ this was nothing to be surprised at. What was important was keeping her sense of self, and not allowing herself to be pulled in by those... She had taken to mentally referring to them as pheromones, as the scientific term did seem to fit. Of course, whether or not that's what it was, well that was for another day.

“Can you explain what you mean by that?” Linda asked, smiling at Adam. He smiled in response, taking another bit of the chocolate she had given him and musing it over.

“He thinks it's been five years since it all happened, an' it has for him,” he said, “but it's not been that long for me.” Linda frowned in a bit of confusion.

“It all?”

“Oh,” Adam looked over, “the Apocalypse.”

There was that feeling of all the blood draining from her that she had felt the first time Lucifer had shown her his real face. She was sure she would faint this time, and wondered briefly if Adam had any experience in basic first aid.

“Didn't happen, 'course,” Adam was adding, in _too_ conversational a tone of voice considering the topic. “Dad wanted me to do it, an' the Horsepeople wanted me to, but... it's like being made to tidy up other people's messes.” The tweleve-year old wrinkled his nose. “Don't like tidying my own.” There was a small laugh from Linda, incredulous with what she was hearing. The Apocalypse was prevented … because the Anti-Christ did not like doing his chores.

If there was ever an argument in favour of childhood rebellion, there it was.

“But it must have made Dad think, 'cause even though it was written, no one... I didn't get into trouble for not doing it,” Adam had paused mid-sentence, glancing upwards just briefly with a frown. Linda made a note to speak to Amenadiel if possible, finding out how Lucifer's son was actually seen by other angels. Genetically speaking, though he was given another title, the boy _was_ part angel.

That was another one of those moments Linda wondered exactly what had happened in her life to bring her to a point where she would be speaking on Jeudo-Christian theology with _actual knowledge_ , rather than word of mouth faith. Granted, she had never been particularly religious herself, but now she found herself researching all she could, just to try to have some kind of understanding as to whether a few of her clients were coming from, so as to best help them. Still... it was always an odd moment.

“Did you expect to get into trouble?” It was the best question to start with. Adam frowned and shrugged, and Linda gave a small nod in return. The answer made sense, no child really _expects_ to get into trouble, even if they knew they were disobeying orders. “But you think your... not going through with that made Lucifer think he could come to Earth?” A small nod in return to the question. “Why?”

“'Cause if I didn't get into trouble from,” he pointed upwards, “then maybe _he_ wouldn't get into trouble if he didn't do what he's supposed to.” There was another shrug, as if it all should have been obvious. Linda supposed that it probably _should_ have been, and admittedly, she did know exactly what Adam had been hinting at. However, she was a therapist and it was always better to go with things being stated rather than left unsaid. The more that was out in the open, the more she was able to provide assistance. She paused, curious.

“You said you don't think time works the same way down there as it does here.” Linda looked at Adam. “What makes you think that?” Adam looked over, earnest in expression.

“Because it was supposed to End last year.”

… She preferred it when she thought this was an elaborate metaphor.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Dog was a very unusual sort of pet for any human, let alone for the one who just so happened to be the son of the Devil. While he was appropriate in that he was a hellhound, the fact was that he lacked any sort of hellhound like behaviours while in the company of His Master. After all, for a hellhound a name was very important, it set up who and what you would be for the rest of eternity. To be named Dog... his fate was sealed before His Master was fully aware of his own powers.

(Of course, the orders from The Master still remained, down in the very essence of his being and should it be needed, Dog would follow the orders of The Master, but as it stood, Dog thought His Master named him very well.)

Earth was so much _more_ than Hell had ever been, Dog thought. There were more things to sniff, and to chase. More flavours other than tormented soul. Not that tormented soul wasn't a good treat – it was – but it didn't _quite_ have the taste of bacon passed under the table when His Master had been repeatedly told not to do such things. Not to mention, bacon stolen from His Master's mortal father's plate? Couldn't be beaten.

Dog really liked bacon, actually.

There were a lot more bitches too, which was always interesting when he and His Master had gone for a walk. At least, it _had_ been, back when they lived in Lower Tadfield and they were surrounded by countryside and lakes and old dumps and anything that a child – and their dog – would consider paradise for having fun in. Then The Master had came and taken them to his new home, in L.A.

It really wasn't like Lower Tadfield at all.

His Master didn't seem much like himself while he was here, Dog thought. He was missing Them, and being around The Master didn't seem to be the best thing in the world for him. Dog thought so anyway. He wasn't human, or a metaphysical being with concepts far beyond any mortals understanding embedded in his very nature. He was.. He was a dog. A small – though not as small as he was because His Master thought it would be fun to have a medium sized dog that could sniff out mysteries and he hadn't _un_ thought it – grey mutt, with a stuck out ear and a waggy tail. The type of dog that was the so obviously best friend to any child who came across it. The perfect companion on any adventure. Just like His Master wanted.

Yes, he was a hellhound, but that was just what he was. _Who_ he was was Dog.

And Dog wasn't sure how to help His Master feel better here. Except maybe by being himself.

It was the best option he had, after all.

 


End file.
